


To Take a Break

by ReineJuly



Category: Tales of the Abyss
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-17 04:27:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5854210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReineJuly/pseuds/ReineJuly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Van wants time away from Sync's lengthy and boring reports, so he tells the young General to take a break. But how, exactly, does one "take a break"?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Van

A slight knock on the door drew Van's attention away from the mess of papers on his desk. He didn't know why he always left them until it got to this point but paperwork simply wasn't interesting enough to make a habit out of.

“Come in.” He didn't have to look up to know it would be his green-haired General cautiously peering at him through the smallest opening of the door.

“Are you busy, Commandant?” His eyes flickered down to the covered desk.

“I said to come in, didn't I?” It always amazed Van that Sync could lead an entire military division to success but couldn't pick up on office etiquette. At least he was efficient at his Chief of Staff position, a title he only received because no one else wanted it. Everyone except the two-year-old replica knew “Chief of Staff” was a code word for “glorified secretary” and Van intended to keep it that way.

“I have the reports for you.” The last thing Van wanted was more stapled documents but Sync had a whole armful of them. The young General looked around the desk for a place to put them and Van gestured for him to put them wherever. It wasn't like he was going look at them anyway. He watched as Sync pushed aside some pages from the left corner of the desk and the polished dark wood was visible for a brief moment before the reports covered it up again. 

“Right, anything else?” It wasn't that Van wanted to get back to whatever form he had been filling out, he just didn't care for the boy's company.

“Yes, actually.” Van suppressed a sigh. “I wanted to update you on my progress with the engineers. The final drawings are being completed this week and an architect is ready to be flown in to Sheridan when needed. We were able to find one of the original architects who worked on several monumental buildings on Hod and-”

“I'm aware of the situation. I spoke with the project manager earlier.” This was a lie, but Sync's verbal updates tended to be longer than his written reports and filled with useless details the Commandant had no interest in.

“Okay, well,” Sync shifted from foot to foot, looking more like a nervous squirrel than a military leader. “I've also sent out a scout team to Kaitzur to keep track of border crossing at that location now that the Tataroo Valley bridge has been destroyed. The expected increase-”

“Why?” The question seemed to catch Sync off-guard but he quickly recovered. He started prattling off a response but it was all Van could do to keep his sigh repressed. He had accepted that it was his fault the replica before him had no other interests, hobbies, _friends_ , or anything that would make him more tolerable. It was unfortunate in moments like these but Van was pretty good at coming up with meaningless tasks for the replica. Just the other month he had sent him off to the Absorption Gate to study the fauna. The boat trip alone took two weeks so the Cathedral had enjoyed a total of six weeks of peace and quiet in his absence.

“...Which was then sent to a specialist in Belkend for analysis and the results should be coming in with the next shipment,” Sync finished. When he didn't receive an immediate response, he added, “The next shipment is in a fortnight.”

“You don't say,” Van mumbled. He had been stuck at his desk all day and his mind just wasn't coming up with responses as fast as it normally did. He leaned back in his hair and busied himself with adjusting his hair tie. In front of him, the small General picked at a loose piece of fabric on his gloves, glancing around the office.

“Did you paint recently?”

“No.”

“Oh. I noticed the scuff on the wall there is gone. I thought you might have painted.”

“Look, Sync.” Van pushed back his chair and stood up. Sync only came up to his chest and his small stature made the brown-haired man look rather large in comparison. He placed a firm hand on Sync's shoulder and turned him around so they were facing the door. “You've been very busy lately and I appreciate the dedication you put into your work.”

“Thank you, Commandant.” _It's not like there's anything else you do_ , Van thought.

“Why don't you take a break?” He had almost navigated Sync out the door but this made the General stop short. With what he imagined would be a look of confusion under his mask, Sync asked,

“A break?”

“Yes. One week should be a good amount of time.” Van hoped some gentle nudges would push the boy over the threshold but he seemed deep in thought. After a pause, he looked up at the Commandant.

“How do I 'take' a 'break'?” The confusion in his voice was apparent. “Do you want me to break something? Break something and… bring it back to you?” Van could almost hear the gears turning at full speed in Sync's head. It would have been funny if Van enjoyed seeing the young replica suffer, which he did, so it was. His face betrayed a tight-lipped smile.

“It means you don't work.”

“So I'm not supposed to break anything?”

“You can if you want.” _Just not here_.

“But do you want me to?”

“It's entirely up to you what to do on your break,” Van sighed. With a bit more force he finally managed to push Sync through the other side of the doorway. “As long as it's not working, you can do it.”

“Anything?”

“Yes.” A sudden flash of thoughts passed through Van's mind and he quickly corrected himself, “No. Not _anything_. Just… be sensible about it.” This seemed to confuse the young General because he turned back, mouth slightly open and working through several silent words before deciding what to say.

“What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to take a break,” Van said through a grimace, half-hoping the door would snap closed on Sync's mask. “Find something to do for one week that's separate from the Order. You're a smart boy, you can figure something out.” Without waiting for a response he retreated into his office and pulled the door shut behind him. He knew he hadn't raised Sync _well_ , exactly, but certainly he would be able to do _something_ independently. If not, he could always send him to check the locks on the Tower of Rem. Again.


	2. Legretta and Dist

The next day started in its usual fashion. Sync awoke in the early hours of the morning, failed an attempt to return to sleep until a more reasonable time, and finally got up when the first ray of sunlight touched the floor. He was dressed and halfway down the route to the common soldiers' quarters when he remembered that today was the first day of his break. With a grumble he turned around and went back to his room.

He paced around the small space a few times before accepting that he knew nothing about what people did on their breaks. He sat down at the foot of his bed to fully analyze his memories. He must know something about “taking a break” or else the Commandant would have given him specific instructions on how to complete this task! So, he broke down what he knew. 

Van told him not to do anything involved with the Order, which might be an indication that “taking a break” and “not working” were similar concepts. Van's vocal tone had made it apparent that people in general should know what “taking a break” encompasses, which meant that people experience “taking a break” frequently enough to immediately recognize the meaning of the phrase. Therefore Sync must have seen someone “taking a break” at some point. However, if he hadn't been able to distinguish their “taking a break” behavior from their “currently working” behavior, there must be shared behavior between the two.

At this point Sync's analysis was interrupted by a growl from his stomach. Getting up from the bed he pulled off his coat and swapped his black uniform pants for a brown pair. These were uniform pants too but they had been discolored in the laundry after a terrible chemical incident. He couldn't quite remember which chemical had spilled but the brown color would work rather nicely as a visual confirmation that he was indeed following orders by not working today. He wasn't sure if he should wear his mask because that too was part of his uniform but Van had insisted he was to wear it _at all times_ so he took it with him on the way to the kitchen.

While the common soldiers went to the cafeteria to eat as a group, the God-Generals had their own private kitchen they could access at any time if they preferred to cook their own meals. Despite his age, Sync could create basic meals with minimal casualties; something that couldn't be said about a certain red-haired General. There had been one week when Sync ate nothing but fried squid because it brought the best reaction from Asch, who would all but launch himself out the window to escape the sight of those rubbery tentacles. It was one of the small joys Sync allowed himself. Today, unfortunately, only Legretta was present in the kitchen. She cast a glance in his direction, though her eyes lingered for a few moments longer than usual.

“I wasn't aware it was laundry day already,” she commented while pouring steaming water into the cup in front of her. Coffee, no doubt. The blonde never cooked for herself but she was too proud to eat in the cafeteria with the lower-ranked soldiers. Her tray of prepared food was waiting for her on the table.

“That's not for another four days,” Sync replied and hesitated before adding, “I'm taking a break today.”

“Really? You?” Legretta stopped mid-sip, her eyes still trained on the smaller General. The height difference didn't allow her to see his face pull into a scowl but he saw the smile form on her lips. Wasn't taking a break a completely normal activity? Surely he couldn't have been doing something wrong already.

“Yes, really.” He busied himself with moving around the contents of the fridge. Dist hated when anyone messed with his organization system, so Sync made sure to make daily subtle changes to the order of yogurt containers and rotate the blocks of cheese.

“Did you receive permission from the Commandant?”

“He asked me to.” There was just enough quiet in the room for Sync to hear what sounded like a snicker. “Is something wrong with that?”

“No, not at all. I'm sure it'll be good for you.” Legretta was good at keeping her voice leveled but a small hint of amusement slipped through. It annoyed him but there wasn't much he could do about it while his hands were full with ingredients for an omelet.

“You've been on break before, haven't you,” he said more as a statement than a question, carefully keeping his voice level and casual. When she didn't give any indication in the contrary, he continued, “What sorts of things do you do during that time?” It wouldn't hurt to do some primary research while waiting for the pan to heat. Legretta nodded thoughtfully as she finished chewing a piece of toast.

“Well, one thing I like to do is take a long bath. There isn't time for such things during a normal day so it's a nice treat to help me relax and prepare for our next move.”

“And what temperature is the water? Is there a particular fragrance that enhances the effectiveness of the relaxation? Does the time of day make a noticeable difference?” Sync's mind flurried through the possibilities as he mixed together the eggs and milk. “What's the optimal frequency of these baths that provide the best benefit-deprivation ratio?”

“Sync.” Legretta's voice was stern as she came up behind him to take an apple from the fruit bowl. “It's not a calculation you need to figure out. The important part of taking time off is to alleviate stress. However you decide to do this is up to you, as long as you don't get caught up in the details. I'm sure you have hobbies and pleasures of you own you don't always have time for during the week. Why not spend time on those things?”

“That's what I was planning on doing,” Sync replied, still policing his tone while pushing the almost-finished omelet around the pan. “I was simply… researching other methods,” he concluded quickly. He chanced a look over at the older woman who didn't seem the least bit convinced. Despite this, she shrugged, wished him a good day, and left with her apple.

Sync glared down at his own food, now piled on a small plate, and stabbed its happy yellow color with his fork. The last thing he wanted to do was spend more time on hygiene when there were battles to be fought and the Score to destroy. Though Legretta did make him come to a conclusion on what to do next. The Commandant told him he couldn't involve himself with work, but that didn't mean he couldn't spend time with the other God-Generals. Not that he liked any of them, of course, but it never hurt to do some close-range spying.

**

This week just so happened to be one of the rare few when most of the other God-Generals were at the Cathedral. The only one missing was Asch, who had disappeared somewhere again. He was gone more often than he was here so he barely passed through Sync's thoughts as he walked down the main hall. Seeing how it was still early and Sync had most of his patience left, his first stop was coming up on the left. Without hesitation he pushed his way through the heavy metal door.

“Dist!”

Sync had only been in Dist's laboratory a handful of times, but the same could be said about anyone who came into contact with the white-haired man. Given a choice, the average soldier would rather spend time with the younger General than the chatterbox in the floating chair. Also given a choice, the same soldier would rather jump off a cliff if there was any chance of survival, but that wasn't important right now.

Half-empty beakers and loose papers strewn around the desks and floor were indications that the doctor was in. Sync wasn't entirely sure if Dist was a real doctor but he always had some sort of medication lying about for the times when Sync had been sick. Thinking as he moved across the floor, his recoveries might have had more to do with the placebo effect rather than the actual drugs. Feigning health was better than listening to Dist prattle on.

“Dist!” he called again. He could just see the pink fabric of the massive floating chair from behind a bookshelf at the far end of the large room. “I'm willingly engaging in conversation with you!” That worked. Immediately Dist abandoned his book and swung around, his face breaking out into a disgusting smile.

“Why, if it isn't my dear comrade! To what do I owe the honor?” Sync opened his mouth to answer but was cut off. “No no, I already know why you're here! Clearly I, _Dist the Rose_ , have captivated you with the case study I presented in my last report. I know it was rather banal, to an effect, but someone must take the path less traveled!”

“I'm doing that all right,” Sync mumbled, not loud enough to be heard over Dist's much louder voice that continued to babble on something about science. As he talked, Sync made his way around the lab. As long as he made some kind of noise when Dist took a pause to breathe, the older man was completely oblivious to anything else happening around him. 

While he talked, Sync shuffled through notes, peered at several vials cooling in the fridge, stepped on important papers that had fluttered to the ground, erased a third of the equations on the whiteboard, turned seven dials on various equipment, picked the lock of one of Dist's desk drawers, stole and ate a piece of gum, spit out said gum because it was too minty, rearranged three shelves of books, and found a cabinet he could reach that contained dangerous chemicals. Dist hadn't shown the slightest sign of slowing down in all this time.

“I probably should have mentioned this at the beginning,” Sync interrupted, though he had to say it three times before Dist noticed, “but I'm on break this week and can't accept any of what you just said as official documentation.”

“What?!” Dist spun his chair in anger. As much as he loved talking, he didn't love having to repeat himself. “You omitted that on purpose just to draw me away from my work!” His skinny legs kicked up a tantrum and his glasses began to fog up.

“But I really did want to talk with you.” Sync's voice suddenly became soft, almost coy. This caught Dist off-guard, stopping his tantrum as if frozen in time.

“Y-You did?” He fumbled. His eyes followed along as Sync ran a hand along one of the lab benches.

“I wanted to know if you had any plans for this afternoon, if you were going anywhere.” Turned away from Dist, he slowly advanced toward the door but stopped at the end of the bench to look back. Dist still hadn't moved.

“N-Not really. I mean, I had intended to go to the library and perhaps take a stroll through the courtyard but-”

“Great! Then I know where _not_ to be!” Sync laughed, a horrible sound that only intensified with the size of the room. He threw open the door and strode out, flipping around to slam it back shut with a bang. 

Almost immediately his features became neutral. Mocking Dist was a fine distraction when he was working but it didn't fit into what Legretta said a break should be. Listening to the old lizard talk was barely worth the prank at the end but at least it had killed a few hours. What he needed now was something that would hold his interest and engage him. After a quick stop to the cafeteria to grab some lunch, Sync went to find Arietta.


	3. Arietta and Largo

Legretta said a break should be spent on pleasures or hobbies, and if there was one thing Sync found pleasuring, it was making others miserable. At least, that's what he thought the word meant. Frequently being bored and alone in the Cathedral meant that Sync had a good idea how to cause the most misery with the least amount of punishment afterward. It just so happened that his three favorite people to make miserable had names all starting with the same letter. With Asch gone off who-knows-where and Anise probably with Ion at that Order meeting, that left Arietta as the prime target. No doubt she would be where she always was around lunchtime.

Although she didn't believe she was human, even Arietta couldn't deny that she had a much easier time gathering food than her monster family. There wasn't much to hunt around Daath if one didn't enjoy crunching down on bee stingers or mountain goat hooves, so Arietta (or Van, rather) had the Cathedral maids set aside extra food for the four or five monsters that were allowed to stay inside the city limits.

Of course Sync knew all of this. He spent countless hours watching her interactions with her “family”, studying her routine, even learning bits and pieces of monster language. He had been caught a few times but always found a way to make her leave him alone without having to answer about what he was doing. Sync had overheard Van talking to Legretta once, the two of them sharing a laugh about how it must be “love” passed down from the original Ion. It was nothing like that. Arietta fascinated Sync, but only because he couldn't logically understand why anyone would outcast themselves, deny their humanity yet still accept human love. Sync wasn't human, never felt even a spark of “love”, and Van made sure he was an outcast, not that he wanted amicable personal connections anyway. There would be no point because everyone would be dead once Eldrant was finished. But yet, there was Arietta doing all of these foolish things.

It was definitely feeding time in the eastern garden. Amidst half-trampled flowers and partially eaten bushes sat Arietta, surrounded by her grunting, snorting, snuffling, ugly monsters. Sync couldn't be bothered to study which species they were but one had wings, another looked like a walking plant, the third might have been a cat, and the other two weren't important enough to be described. However, the walking plant looked promising. It was currently walking away from Arietta, and Sync crept as quietly as he could against the Cathedral walls so he could get closer without being spotted. The obnoxious eating sounds masked any sort of sound he made so it wasn't particularly difficult.

When Sync had went for lunch earlier, he didn't actually eat any of it. Instead he pocketed the paper-wrapped sandwich and tucked two sausages inside his boots. His intention was to use one as bait to draw a monster into the church and another to direct it towards a large group of churchgoers. First, though, the sandwich. It didn't take a genius to figure out that plant monsters don't eat sandwiches and it didn't take Sync long to figure out that when they do eat sandwiches, they would either wilt or puff up and explode. Both were funny but Sync was hoping for an explosion this time.

Crouching behind a row of shrubs, Sync unwrapped the sandwich. He considered it for a moment, then took a bite in case he had to use the “I dropped it and your dumb monster ate it before I could pick it up” excuse. His movements caught the eye – did it have eyes? – of the monster and it shuffled its way over towards him. It was almost too easy. With a grin he held out the remainder of the sandwich, lightening his grip just enough so the monster's leaves could curl around it and pluck it from his grasp. He watched as the leaves convulsed a few times before reaching up and dropping it down into a hole on the top of its head. Wet squishing noises indicated it had begun processing the food.

Not wanting to be too close when the explosion happened, Sync shoved it back towards the other monsters and moved to a better vantage point closer to the door. Already the plant monster had begun shaking but Arietta was too preoccupied with a rotund blue frog to notice. Maybe it was time to drum up a little excitement.

“What's wrong with your pet?” Louder than necessary, Sync always used his authority voice when talking to Arietta. Monsters were beneath him and if she wanted to be a monster, that meant she was beneath him too. “It looks sick or something. Why aren't you taking proper care of your _famiwy_?” he mocked. Without missing a beat Arietta replied,

“Did you feed him something again?” She hurried over to kneel beside the leafy creature who was really shaking now. In a softer voice she asked, “Did he do something to you, brother?”

“I'm so insulted right now,” Sync announced, pacing a few steps towards them with his arms crossed to further the sentiment. “I was looking out for your _pet_ when you clearly couldn't be bothered to. What if it had _died_?” Cradling the little monster in her arms, Arietta shot a nasty look up at Sync.

“I know you did this! How can you be so cruel?!” The other monsters had picked up on her anger and begun advancing towards the two of them. “You're just awful!”

“Aww, sour grapes.” Sync's grin widened. With any luck the stupid creature would blow up right in Arietta's face.

“I hate you, Sync!” she screamed at him, knocking him back with her shoulder to run inside the Cathedral, to the clinic, no doubt. As she went by Sync reached out and grabbed onto her hair, giving it a tug. Five extra misery points at no extra cost because no one had seen it so no one could prove he did it. He watched after her, the other monsters trailing behind her. All except one.

The largest monster of the pack, the cat-looking one, was standing at the edge of the garden, its gaze fixed on Sync. A small amount of blood on the fur around its mouth hinted at its previous meal.

“What?” Sync asked with attitude. Its reply was several sharp inhales that slowly descended into a low growl. The twitch in its tail wasn't a good sign either. It took the General several seconds to remember the pieces of meat in his boots. It only took him one second to start running.

To be fair, his plan was working. It was only the details that weren't exactly right. It crossed Sync's mind to head for his room and hope the door held up against the six-foot monster, but the Commandant's office was right down the hall and the last thing Sync wanted was for Van to see this. Unfortunately, with Arietta nowhere in sight, the only other option was the hallway that led to the main foyer where all the innocent Lorelei followers would be. Not a big loss there.

Soldiers jumped out of the way as Sync rounded the corner, the cat closing the gap between them with every bound. Its claws skidded on the stone floor and a growl could be heard over the shocked exclamations of those who pressed themselves against the wall so they wouldn't be shredded by the beast. There was only one more staircase (Sync cursed the architect who thought building on a hill was a good idea) and the General bounded upwards, three steps at a time. He barged through the doors at the top into the glyph room that led into the main foyer. He allowed himself a quick glance back and saw the monster had gained far too much ground. One more leap and it would-

The world spun. One moment he was looking back, the next moment he was flung into the air and everything turned upside down. He felt an impact against his ribs at the same time he heard a dull thud followed by a yelp. That might have been him, though he wasn't sure. Only after a few seconds of silence did he open his eyes.

He was still in the glyph room but suspended several feet in the air. His mind was still reeling when Largo put him down. His eyes wandered to the right where he saw the cat monster's body had been flung, its shallow breath indicated it was still alive though not conscious.

“Wow, good timing, Largo!” Sync said with a hesitant laugh. When he didn't get a response back, he looked back up at the grey-haired man. It was then he noticed another familiar figure standing further back. His face fell. In a small voice he added, “Hello Commandant.”

“I left you alone for one day and this is what you do?” Van's stern voiced echoed throughout the room. Suddenly Largo didn't seem like the biggest man in the room, though his own expression was hard to read. Sync recoiled slightly when Van approached but he knew better than to make it too obvious. Then the dreaded words came out: “I'm disappointed in you.”

“I'm sorry.”

“You were about to put hundreds of people in danger, not to mention destroy the trust between the Order of Lorelei and the Oracle Knights. I had thought you better than this but I see now that faith was misplaced.” Sync started to protest but Van cut him off. “ **Don't speak**. There is nothing you can say to excuse your actions.” Sync didn't raise his eyes from the floor while Van paced around him. He expected to be struck at any moment, even with Largo standing watch. As always, he was the mediator and it didn't provide any comfort as Van continued.

“You realize I keep you around for convenience. Your existence is merely to serve me. I made this quite clear, didn't I?”

“Yes, Commandant.”

“Yet you are acting in a manner that would clearly go against my will. You do know how important it is to have Mohs as an ally at this stage, don't you?”

“Yes, Commandant.”

“Any sort of deviation from the plan could result in complete failure, and I don't think you want to be the cause of that failure, do you?” Sync didn't answer. Van had completed his circle and now stood directly in front of the boy. He lowered his voice so Largo wouldn't hear. “I have no qualms about throwing you back into Zaleho if you continue to disappoint me. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes.” Sync's voice was barely audible and he didn't trust himself to say any more without his voice breaking. It was a threat he knew the Commandant would act upon. The older man let the words sink in before turning away and returning his voice to its usual volume.

“Tomorrow you will spend the day _outside_ the Cathedral. I do not want to see you here after breakfast or before nightfall. The following day you will return to work.” He stopped just short of the doorway with one more icy look cast at the green-haired boy. “I do not want to hear anything about you acting out, or we will be having words.” He didn't need to wait for a response; any mention of Mount Zaleho was enough to set the young General for at least a fortnight. It was only after his footsteps had faded down the hall that Largo, who had been still as a statue, moved across the room to the creature that had been all but forgotten. He picked it up with ease even though it must have been at least 200 pounds. With his free hand he steered Sync by the shoulder back towards the Generals' quarters.

“Some fresh air will be good for you.” The words were hardly reassuring though Sync did find a small sliver of relief by having someone on his side. Largo would have made a good father to someone else.

“I don't know what to do,” Sync said eventually. Daath was an awful city full of people who were obsessed with Lorelei, and the mere thought of spending an entire day in there was a horrid enough punishment without having to experience it. Staying out of trouble would be a challenge even if he weren't a recognizable military figure. Fortunately Largo had some advice for him before he continued on to the clinic.

“Dwelling on today won't make tomorrow pass any faster. Go eat supper and stay away from the others. The less they hear of this, the better. Rest well tonight and you'll have a clear mind to make better choices tomorrow. Good night, Sync.”

“Good night, Largo.” Sync watched as the larger man walked down the corridor, then called out, “Hey Largo?”

“Hm?”

“Let me know if the other monster exploded.” He grinned as Largo sighed, shaking his head.


	4. A Day in Daath

Noisy churchgoers. Unattended children running in the foyer. Guards who weren't at their post. Solicitors without permits. Late mail delivery. Arietta's monster that somehow made a full recovery.

All things that started off Sync's day on a bad note. Not that any of his days started off particularly well, but today would be the one day that was noticeably bad. Lorelei certainly wasn't going to make this easy for him.

Van had personally escorted Sync out of the Cathedral as soon as he finished breakfast (which he tried to prolong but there was only so many times you could chew oatmeal before it became a tasteless soggy mash). Now the younger General was left alone to not work, not be noticed, not cause a disturbance, and somehow make it through the day. Only ten hours to go.

It couldn't be that hard, he thought to himself as he walked further into the city. After all, he was mature, level-headed, responsible, and definitely not noticing that one of his very own soldiers was skipping today's training in favor of spending time with his family. _Unacceptable_. Sync had drawn in a breath and taken two paces towards them before stopping himself. Punishing the soldier would be considered working and he wasn't allowed to work today. It took willpower but he decided to let it go just this once and instead turned down a nearby alleyway for a shortcut to the main square.

People often clustered around this area so, Sync figured, there must be something there that would keep him occupied at least for a little while. Sure enough, there was a crowd hovering around the stone monument in the center. His eyes scanned through the mass but nobody particularly stood out to him. Mostly older people, some with young children, nothing out of the ordinary. He was about to turn away when a familiar voice spoke up over the din of the crowd. Just his luck. He couldn't stop himself from growling as Anise introduced the monument to the people. No doubt she was picking up extra cash for her spend-all parents again. She had already been warned once that accepting money for tours wasn't allowed but that never deterred the pigtailed girl. Every bone in Sync's body itched to march through that crowd and call her out in front of everybody, then drag her back to the Cathedral for Mohs to scold her. The fat lout was responsible for her family's debt and he loved to keep it that way so for sure it would amusing to watch. He wanted to _so badly_ , but he couldn't disobey a direct order from the Commandant. He let out another snarl and stomped up the stairs to the merchants' abandoned items and storage warehouse.

The place was more of a vacant lot that had been overtaken by junk and boxes rather than a dedicated building. By that logic it was open to the public, though the items left here were hardly of any value so not even thieves would stop by. Sync had been here a few times, usually searching for a merchant who had gone into hiding after not paying his rent or to issue a fine for using the public space as free private storage. He had no use for the random odds and ends in the overflowing crates but he had nine more hours to entertain himself so he resigned himself to at least half an hour of digging through the garbage. Some of these things may have been valuable at one time but now no one wanted cracked jars of unknown liquid, fake capacity cores, tattered old books, or three giant boxes of fontech from the Dawn Age. Sync picked up a round brass-colored sphere that emit a light blue glow from a clear gemstone on one end and turned it around in his hand. Something clinked as it moved and the light flickered with each sound. Boooring. He let it drop back into the box with a frustrated sigh. He wanted to be doing something, not wasting time out here.

It had begun to occur to Sync that maybe this break was a punishment for something. It certainly wasn't enjoyable so it couldn't have been a reward like what Legretta made it out to be. The Commandant must be punishing him for doing something wrong or, the gears in his head turned faster, maybe this another “learning challenge”, as the swordsman put it. The challenges were frequent when he was younger and taught valuable lessons such as what happens when one eats an entire bunch of bananas in one sitting or that gravity acts on all objects including vases, dictionaries, and the halberd that almost lost him an arm. Of course the other God-Generals provided “learning challenges” too; like the time when Sync learned about stealing when he took Dist's chair, lying when he said Asch did it, and picking better targets when Asch had no problem picking him up and throwing him down a flight of stairs. Clearly there must be some sort of lesson to be learned in this “taking a break” scenario.

He was so deep in thought that he didn't notice a presence behind him until he felt something sharp on the back of his neck. He spun around, green lightning dancing across his fingers, and locked eyes with his challenger. Any doubts he had before now vanished; Lorelei was _really_ testing him.

“I didn't think fontech was really your thing.” Sync couldn't hold back his growl because he had to concentrate on not swinging his fist into the blonde man's face. Out of all the millions of people on Auldrant, he just had to cross paths with his personal rival. It was bad enough losing to him in the Zao Ruins but he was especially miffed at how Guy had managed to break his fonic art outside Grand Chokmah. Any other day, _any other day_ and this would have been a perfect time to even the score. But not today.

“What are you doing here?” Sync's tactical mind was already forming plans on how he could maneuver the narrow walkway, strike from above, use projectiles, go in for the final blow. Surely the Commandant would understand the situation and see that this was the best course of action. There would only be a few civilian casualties at most, not too much property damage, only one whole tour group of frightened religious nutcases… 

“I was in the area so I stopped by to visit Anise.” Guy lowered his sword but kept it unsheathed, lightly trailing it on the ground as he paced. Sync watched his movements but didn't give him the satisfaction of retreating. “Seems kind of strange to find you here too.”

“I work here,” Sync bit back. The feeling of want was even worse than it had been earlier. He wanted to attack, wanted to draw blood, wanted to hear bones break, wanted to never see those condescending blue eyes ever again. It would be _so easy_. He would win this time and Van would be proud of him. Or he would throw him in the volcano because that's what he said he would do. All the want in the world couldn't overcome that fear, so the only thing he could do was pull his lips back into a sneer and do as much damage as he could with words alone.

“Here?” Guy paused to take a look around at the lot of boxes and items. “Did you get demoted?”

“I'm on break! Not that it's any of your business.” Seeing the incredulous look on the swordsman's face that matched the one Legretta had given him yesterday, Sync added forcefully, “Yes, _really_.”

“Sorry, I just didn't think people like you took breaks. No offense.” There was so much offense. “So what do you do on the days you actually have morals?” Sync bristled at the jab but didn't take the bait. Instead, he took a chance turning his back to the blonde and walking away. Unsurprisingly, Guy followed. He finally put his sword away but kept his distance, which Sync took as a good sign. At least he was still threatening even though he couldn't actually do anything.

“Are you going to follow me all around the city like some kind of predator? Stalking is a crime, you know.” Sync wasn't entirely sure about that but he doubted the Malkuth man knew much about Daath laws. It sounded real enough anyway.

“So arrest me.” There was a hint of amusement in Guy's voice but Sync didn't dare look back as he continued stomping down the street. Anyone who turned to look didn't let their gaze rest too long. Sync had hoped walking through the dangerous part of town would lead someone to attack them but everyone was so disgustingly passive today that they had made it through five blocks of low-income housing without one incident.

“Speaking of the city,” Guy continued, “were you actually going somewhere or-”

“YES.” The anger was starting to bubble over but it was also starting to wear him out. Pure hatred-filled rage had a lifespan of about half an hour. “I had a very busy day planned with plenty of placed to go before _you_ showed up, but they all fell through at the last minute,” Sync finished quickly. He hoped the change of pace would convey a lack of interest in those non-existent plans but the blonde's lie detections skills must have been sharper than he thought by the “mhmm” response he gave.

“In any case, it's nice of you to take me on a tour-”

“I am not!” Sync swung around to face the taller man, eyes glaring daggers behind his mask. If only he could grab one of those daggers and throw it just so… “Don't _you_ have anywhere else to be?”

“There was an antique store I heard about that supposedly had an old textbook about Sigmund-style artes, now that you mention it.” The metaphorical daggers were entirely ineffective as Guy didn't look the least bit worried as he posed a hand on his chin, thinking. “I forgot to ask Anise earlier if she knew where it was. I know I read about it in a magazine, and I'm sure they said it was near the High Street chemist...”

“I know where it is.” Sync was about to follow this up with “and I'm not telling you” but he was interrupted before he could.

“Great! We can go there together, since you have nothing else to do.” He couldn't help but growl his frustrations because it was true. He couldn't even come up with an excuse in a reasonable amount of time as to why he couldn't go. So, with more grumbled complaints and under-his-breath insults, he set off on a route through the second most dangerous part of Daath and cursing himself for not using a capacity core with a higher luck boost.

Seeing how Lorelei clearly hated him and the world wanted him dead anyway, the two safely made it to the antique store in a timely manner. Sync had considered waiting outside (leaving would make it seem like he was running away so he couldn't do that) but he had been to an antique store once before in Grand Chokmah with Largo and the silver-haired man would have still been in there if it weren't for Sync's constant badgering after the second hour of chipped pottery and rusted iron shoe racks from the Dawn Age. So he went in. He made sure to modify his body language to show that he was entirely bored and slightly irritated by the situation yet being mature by keeping his patience. In other words, he crossed his arms and refused to acknowledge the employee who greeted them upon entering.

Like every other secondhand store, this one was overstuffed with what Sync would have called trash if he didn't reserve that word for himself. It was junk and it was garbage and it was impossible to understand how such an inclosed landfill could have been featured in any sort of magazine that made it out of the print shop. Of course Guy found several reasons to stop an examine various items, making their voyage to the bookshelves along the back wall painstakingly slow. Sync would have went ahead and found the damn book himself if it weren't for the fact that the walkway was only wide enough for one person, the ceiling was too low for him to vault over that glass table, and he couldn't be sure if the nails holding up the paintings on the wall would support his weight if he were to swing across. It would be so unfortunate if someone were to, say, use a wind arte in the middle of this mess. The thought almost brought a smile to his lips but not only would that have ruined his persona, it was soured by the fact that he couldn't do any of that. At least not today.

After what felt like precisely twelve and a half minutes they reached the book section, and another four and a quarter minutes before Guy found the book. Sync would have found it first if it hadn't been on the top shelf, well above his head. Still, it was found and that meant they could leave. To make sure Guy knew he wasn't finding any merit in this, Sync kept up a chatter about how his disgust of the place wasn't subjective but objective and it would obviously go out of business within the year. Finally on their way out Guy acknowledged the younger boy.

“You haven't eaten since this morning, have you?”

“What?”

“Kids always get grumpy when they're hungry.” Zero to a hundred in one second. Sync flared at the comment. How dare he call him a child?! He had half a mind to unleash one of those aforementioned wind artes right here and be done with it but that would, once again, be defying his orders and it would prove the swordsman right. It took an enormous amount of willpower and he was sure his teeth were being ground into powder at this point, but Sync contained himself.

“Isn't that nice of you to offer to buy me lunch,” he replied. It was easier to level his tone with his teeth clenched.

“Sure. I'm kind of hungry myself.” If Guy knew Sync was giving himself arthritis from clenching his fists so tight, he didn't show it. Maybe he had picked up on the fact that Sync wasn't attacking him from every angle like during their previous encounters. Surely not knowing why would have been enough to keep him cautious in case the pleasantry wore off but instead he seemed entirely unfazed, even smug, as he strode along.

Eventually they settled on a sandwich shop two streets away. It wasn't like Sync cared what he ate because he wasn't paying for it and he wasn't even hungry, to make that point clear. The sandwich was mediocre at best and brought back some bitterness about Arietta's monster not blowing up. Therefore he didn't enjoy it.

He also didn't enjoy the public garden they walked through simply because it was there. Flower pollen gave him allergies and all the thorns had been shaved off the rosebushes so, as far as the General was concerned, there was nothing to look at.

The next place he didn't enjoy was the comic store. He didn't appreciate colorful artwork or stories for a wide range of audiences. There was nothing better to say about the court painter sketching the pigeons on the street because watercolor was a dying medium and no one sketched in watercolor anyway so this girl, a petite with a large brown pointed hat, was clearly wasting her time. People wasting time instead of doing productive work made Sync angry so this encounter did nothing to demonstrate how following one's passion would provide fulfillment in one's life. Sync was also disappointed in the vast selection of ice cream flavors at a curbside stand, found no merit in the war memorial district, wasn't entranced by the local kids playing rowdy game street hockey, and definitely didn't want to join a tour of the cheesecake and crepe eatery in the newly-renovated historical leatherwork factory.

“Looks like you had a good day,” Guy said when the day had finally begun to wind down, the shadows becoming long in the orange light. “Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't I see a smile when they were taking those cakes out of the oven?”

“No!” Sync protested. That was one of the worst parts, when the bakers were lining up the dozens of delicious, golden-brown, aromatic, 12-inch chocolate swirl cheesecakes fresh out of old stone oven. He didn't even like cheesecake… that much. “You need to get your eyes checked.” Sync refused to respond to that sly grin, instead focusing on the towers of the Catherdral rising over the tops of buildings. He hadn't realized how much time had passed; by now he would be allowed back inside and might even catch the tail end of the dinner rush. The tour had done nothing for his hunger except make him look forward to the slop they usually served in the cafeteria.

“As much as I hate to end our little date, I've got a ship to catch early tomorrow morning so I'm going to have to call it a night.” Guy was prepared for the flurry of backlash about how it wasn't a date and they were still enemies and the usual something about killing that came in this type of rant. He let Sync finish before adding one final nudge; “You don't need me to walk you home, do you?”

Finally Sync could let out the scream he had been holding in all day. It was one tiny victory he allowed the other to have as he stormed off toward the church, trying to drown out the sound of laughter with his heavy footsteps. He had made it this far without blowing anything up and he would be damned if he let himself go after a whole day of good behavior. The first thing he was going to do upon setting foot into the Oracle Headquarters was find the Commandant and tell him that he's never ever going to take another break again in his life. He would stand his ground and be assertive; and also maybe suggest they order catering from the cheesecake and crepe eatery for the Lorelei Day celebration.


	5. Final Meeting

Morning was always the busiest time in the Cathedral. The Order of Lorelei members (Fon Master included) were prepping for another day of tourists and ceremonies, and the Oracle Knights were prepping for another day of heavy training and misery. It wasn't unusual to see a soldier or two sneaking away in Order robes and while Van was aware of the issue, he didn't mind the occasional truancy. It built character.

He took his time sauntering down the grand corridor where his office was located. Between the movement of bodies he could clearly see one small dark form loitering near the wall but nine o'clock meant nine o'clock and Van didn't intend to be one minute earlier. He had spent a rather peaceful night in casual conversation with Legretta the previous evening, interrupted only once by a guard informing him that God-General Sync requested an audience. Denied, of course. A man had to have his priorities.

The Commandant barely took notice of the boy's greeting as he pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the office door. He didn't acknowledge the other right away – it was always amusing to watch the boy squirm – and instead busied himself with straightening a small pile of papers on his desk before finally sitting down, inviting the other to do so too. Van studied the red and golden mask that stared back at him and made a point to not return the nervous half-smile that formed on the boy's lips. Intimidation tactics were as much fun as he'd ever get out of this replica. Finally he let out a sigh and leaned back to rest his chin between his fingers.

“I must say I'm rather surprised.” He waited a moment for a response but Sync knew better than to offer any information so he continued. “I expected to hear about you by noon at latest.” Once more he paused but was met with silence again. Perhaps the poor boy was still shell-shocked after the Zaleho threat. That would explain yesterday. “It was a _pleasant_ surprise,” he concluded.

“Thank you, sir.” There was no betrayal in Sync's tone, as expected. He wasn't the most expressive soldier but was almost unreadable with his mask blocking the majority of his face. Van wasn't fooled. He could even read Asch, so Sync was no problem.

“And what did you do all day?” Van asked casually, keeping the question vague on purpose.

“I conducted person reconnaissance of various Daath neighborhoods,” was Sync's answer. Vague on purpose.

“That sounds a lot like work, doesn't it?” Keeping casual, Van thumbed through a spiral-bound logbook, casting his eyes up at the young General in an accusatory manner.

“Well, no, it was _personal_ reconnaissance…” 

“Yes, I heard you the first time.” Seeing the confusion cross over the boy, a mix of taken-aback posture and a tilted head, Van pressed further, “What specifically did you do?” It only took a small look to the right and a too-long pause for the Commandant to know a lie was coming. He let Sync ramble something about crime neighborhoods and truant soldiers, not absorbing any of it.

“It's not wise to lie to me,” he said once Sync was finished. “I'm still dealing with the aftermath of the mess you caused two days ago and I will be extremely unhappy if I receive another report against you because you don't know how to control yourself. So I'm going to ask you again: What did you do yesterday?” Really Van couldn't care less what any report said because he needed a loyal disposable soldier like Sync, but he was still upset about the monster incident. Mohs had given him hell for it and that man was possibly more irritating to deal with than Sync.

“I…” Sync hesitated but continued with an air of defeat, “I went to some stores, walked through a garden, saw some girl painting in the street, and took a tour of a new cheesecake restaurant on the west side.” The fact that it all sounded like a horrible lie meant that it must have been true because Sync wasn't that creative. Van allowed himself a moment to think of his next question.

“You did this by yourself?”

“No…” The obvious waver in Sync's voice told Van that he had discovered a crack.

“Who were you with?” he asked as light-hearted as he could. Sync fidgeted but didn't answer right away. “Oh, come now. I'm not going to police who you can interact with on your days off. I did give you that amount of freedom, after all. Who was it?”

“Guy Cecil.”

Van let out a combination of a sigh and a growl, rubbing his face with his hands. He should have known better than starting his day with Sync. Somehow the replica always knew exactly the wrong buttons to push at any given time. As they had grown up together, Guy was a sore spot for Van. They had parted ways after the blonde refused to kill Luke as revenge for his family's fate, proving that he would be no use in any of Van's further plans. Even though he knew they would never see eye-to-eye again, Guy was _much_ more effective with children. The last thing Van wanted was Sync being turned into some ignorant dependent like the replica Luke.

“Why?” he finally managed. He didn't look up but could hear Sync's foot rubbing nervously against the wooden chair leg.

“I didn't want to but he kept following me!” Emotion broke through Sync's usually cold exterior. “I didn't want to go to any of those places or do any of those things but he wouldn't leave me alone!” His voice was becoming more like a whine as he spoke. “I would have attacked him but you said not to draw attention to myself, and I couldn't summon the guards because you said not to interact with anyone in the Order, and I couldn't come back here because you said not to!” This was punctuated with a deep frown and Van could only imagine the puppy eyes that went with it.

“I guess I did,” he said, pulling himself up into a more respectable posture.

“Huh?” There was a small noise that might have been a sniffle. Van nodded.

“I suppose I did put forth quite a few restrictions. Even still, I might have allowed one small disruption if it meant disposing of a larger disruption.”

“So I should have attacked him?” the General asked, confused. “Even though you said not to, and doing so would be a direct violation of your orders?” Van sighed again, wishing he had had a cup of coffee before this meeting.

“I expect you to consider all options and choose the best one for the situation. In this case you should have known to kill one of our major enemies when given the opportunity. If you're not going to use your brain, why do you have one at all?” Perhaps that remark was a little strong, but it had already been said.

“I was just following your orders…” Even Van wasn't so much of a tyrant to not feel a pang of guilt at that line.

“Very well. Did you at least have a good time? Not that it matters since you won't be doing that ever again.” Sync bit his lip and looked down but didn't answer.

“No?” Van continued. He stood up and moved over to the window to gaze out over the Cathedral grounds. Legretta's division were practicing counterattacks on the lawn. “Shame. I always though he'd make a good babysitter. He's rather good at providing entertainment with limited resources.” He turned to look back at the green-haired boy with a chuckle. “I suppose I have to give him some credit if he could keep you pacified all day.” Sync shifted as if to say something but decided against it at the last second, clamping his jaws shut with an audible _clack_.

“Let's let fonons be fonons, shall we?” Van pulled the cord and dropped the blinds down, darkening the room. He was looking forward to a coffee and light nap before starting any serious work but he couldn't do either if Sync was still here. “I'm sure you're itching to get back to work. It is what you're good at, I'm sure we can agree.”

Sync grumbled a “Thank you, Commandant” and dragged himself up from his chair. He made for the door but Van stopped him.

“Between you and I, would you have preferred being in Luke's place, having Guy as your mentor?”

“Fuck no,” Sync growled, using the “one swear allowance” that the censorship board deemed acceptable for a T-rated game.

“Good boy,” Van said, giving Sync a light pat on the shoulder. “Go on, then.” He held the door open for the General and closed it again behind him, turning the lock. 

He knew, of course, that Sync had been lying. There was one part of his day that he enjoyed. Van had gotten up to look out the window just long enough for the boy to slip a pamphlet for the cheesecake restaurant into the pile of ingoing paperwork. Perhaps it wouldn't be too bad to grant him one indulgence. Taking a break, after all, was hard work.


End file.
